Children of the Fleet (Fleet School #1)(3)

Sooner or later, though, the lies and concealment would catch up with her—and Dabeet would pay the price. There were kids at school who already muttered “muchopadre”—many-fathers.

Why should Dabeet be trapped in Mother’s fantasy world when it all came crashing down?

Maybe trapping him was the point. His intelligence could not be denied, and if he were to be certified as a child of the Fleet, he would surely be taken to Fleet School.

Where no parents were allowed.

Maybe every word that Mother said was true, maybe his DNA had been tested and he was certified, and Mother simply would not apply to install him in Fleet School, and would actively fight any attempt to take him away from her control.

Getting out from under Mother’s control was Dabeet’s main reason for wanting to go into space.

It was time to get answers and make decisions of his own.

So Dabeet found the file containing his genome in the Elkhart School District’s database, copied it, and then began attaching it to all kinds of applications.

Using the school computers along with information he pried from Mother’s smartphone, Dabeet applied, in his mother’s name, for Fleetchild status for her only child—himself. He found a site intended for offworlders that administered the admissions test for Fleet School, took the test, and submitted the results along with his mother’s application for him to be admitted.

He also submitted his test results to a dozen different boarding schools on Earth and Luna, always pretending to be his mother, always giving the best information he could find about her finances to make sure he qualified for need-based scholarships. He needed a full ride, not just tuition.

Then, having done all that was within his power and much that officially was not, Dabeet went about his days with confidence that he was only a sojourner in this place. Soon he would be plucked out of Elkhart, Indiana, and sent to a school on Luna, or in Russia, Brazil, Italy, Kikuyu, New Zealand, or Japan.

He did not allow himself to wonder what he would do if none of these places offered him a full scholarship, or if his forgery was discovered and Mother were able to intervene to block him. All that was in his power was to give himself more opportunities and choices. It was up to Mother to decide, once he was admitted somewhere, to either let him go or launch an all-out, lifelong war between the two of them.

For he would never forgive her if she did not let him go.

No one could have guessed that he harbored such thoughts. He was always polite and instantly obedient to his mother. He never allowed himself to show embarrassment or doubt when she discoursed about his father and his heritage.

Having examined his appearance impartially in mirrors and in photographs, he decided that his father might very well be from India or Southeast Asia, and so he studied videos of Malays, Tamils, and Bengalis so he could master the cultural markers of males of low status in such lands: a beaming, toothy smile upon meeting, downcast eyes when speaking, hand half-concealing his mouth when disagreeing with an adult.

“I don’t like the way you hide yourself from people who are stupid compared to you,” said Mother once. And another time, “When did you learn to bow your head like that? These people are not lords in some medieval time.” And more than once, “When you cover your mouth like that, no one can hear you, and yet your words are the most important ones they’ll hear all day.”

And, most telling, her constant mantra: “You are superior in mind and heart to everyone you meet. Hold yourself with pride, instead of apologizing with your bows and mumbles.”

She noticed what he was doing, but had no understanding of why. If some cruel fate decided to keep him in Elkhart, he was determined that none of the Anglos or Asians that controlled American education and business would have any cause to fear his keen intelligence. “He is not here to take my place and rule over me,” they would assure themselves. Thus they would admit him into positions from which he could take their places and rule over them.

Meanwhile, he fulfilled all his assignments and took all his tests, performing as a model student at the Charles G. Conn School for the Gifted. In fact, he overperformed.

If the test had six essay questions—at Conn, true-false and multiple-choice tests were forbidden—then Dabeet answered all six with well-reasoned and well-supported essays. Then he would pose two more questions that were much better than the ones the teacher had come up with, and answer those as well.

When the assignment was to retell one of Aesop’s fables in his own words, he wrote a perfectly competent retelling of “The Tortoise and the Hare,” followed by a refutation of the principle that “slow and steady wins the race,” using counterexamples from history. And finally he wrote his own fable based loosely on the Italian tale of Geppetto and his wooden puppet.

If his teachers felt themselves overwhelmed by the sheer volume of work that he turned in, they made no complaint. They did not even comment positively. They simply accepted what he gave them, and then graded everything, including comments on the extra material, showing that they read and appreciated it. But, guided by rules designed to minimize competitiveness and bullying, the teachers never singled him out for praise in a way that might lead other students to resent or envy him.

This did not matter to Dabeet. He did not need their words to tell him that his program of making himself hopelessly overqualified for Conn was working. Every teacher—even ones he had never met—greeted him by name in the halls. Visiting dignitaries who spoke to no students individually were nevertheless brought to his classroom, where Dabeet could always see that they had been told which seat was his, for they counted across and down until their eyes rested on him. Whereupon he did his best look-down-modestly, then locked his eyes attentively on the teacher until the visitor went away.